“Napoleon, you promised.” Illya pouted softly as he watched his partner work the hard rod between his fingers.

“Must you always be impatient?” Napoleon remonstrated and continued his ministrations as he licked at the cream slowly and Illya moaned.

“Only when you torment me.” Illya growled and rolled out of the way. The brightest and best in personal thought it would be fun to have a party. And they added their own theme. Cloak and dagger. Well duh? They were a spy agency and it was hardly imaginative. Illya however possessed a wicked imagination and was set to shock, he’d arrived less than twenty minutes ago to pick up his partner. Napoleon could see the surprised looks when Illya arrived in nothing but a cloak with a wicked curved dagger strategically hung in its scabbard.

“Illya?” Napoleon leaned on the counter and smiled seductively. “You said you were hungry.”

“Yes and you continue to torment me.” Illya protested and sighed as Napoleon resumed his gentle ministrations, running his fingers over the length, further down sprinkling gentle caresses over the nuts and Illya all but writhed in orgasmic pleasure.

Illya arched his back as Napoleon generously slathered on a scoop of Ben and Jerry’s Vanilla.

The American risked a glance at his partner, the heavy lids over glazed blue eyes, and the perfect pout that parted so slightly and exhaled with each pass. And Napoleon could swear he could hear the heart that hammered in his beautiful chest.

His breath hitched as Napoleon leaned closer and whispered. “I’m out of cherries, Moya leubeyouf.” And Illya swooned clutching at the side of the counter for support, his knuckles white against the laminate as Napoleon reached in to taste his prize.

Hungrily Illya pounced taking the advantage as he licked down in the fruit of his labour and sighed blissfully happy.

“Good?” Napoleon whispered.

“Da Napasha, you make the best banana split ever.”